


A Night Out With Lockwood and Lucy

by LiteraryFaerie



Category: Lockwood & Co. - Jonathan Stroud
Genre: A creepy ghost because this is Lockwood & Co after all, And a little bit of angst, F/M, I miss Lockwood & Co so much you guys, Lockwood is a dork and Lucy is a MESS, Lots of adorable awkwardness, undercover agents
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 13:33:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14137068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiteraryFaerie/pseuds/LiteraryFaerie
Summary: Always eager to try out a new disguise, Lockwood insists that he and Lucy go undercover as boyfriend and girlfriend to catch a Phantom targeting couples. The two agents spend the resulting fiasco battling a vengeful ghost, Gerorge's snark, and their feelings for one another.





	A Night Out With Lockwood and Lucy

**Author's Note:**

> I first started writing this several months ago after I came across a text post about Lockwood and Lucy having to pretend to be a couple for a case and fell in love with the premise. Hopefully I will finish this soon!

### Chapter 1

In my time working at Lockwood and Co, there had been plenty of moments where I found myself in ridiculous situations, wondering what strange twist of fate had led me down this path, but this was undoubtedly the most ridiculous of all.  
“Oh do smile Luce,” Lockwood said, giving me the full, hundred-megawatt grin as he squeezed my hand reassuringly “We’ll be much more convincing that way.” 

I glared at him “Like we’re fooling anyone in the first place! This is a terrible idea Lockwood, I still say we should have disguised ourselves as night watch kids.” 

Lockwood just shook his head, unbothered by my griping, “Night watch kids wouldn’t have cut it, the Wilston Lane Phantom only targets couples. Besides, I like to think that I’m plenty convincing as your boyfriend.” 

I flushed for about the hundredth time that night. Hearing Lockwood talk about the two of us like that always made me flustered, even knowing that it was all part of the case. My stomach wouldn’t stop fluttering and my heart wouldn’t stop pounding as we strolled down the street, Lockwood and I, hands clasped. It was probably symptoms of some illness brought on by the shoddy hot dogs Lockwood had insisted we buy from a street vender to “make our cover more authentic”. Damn Lockwood. 

Of course _he_ was in a fine spirit that night, never one to pass up an opportunity for trying out a new disguise. The energy that was ever present in Lockwood’s actions and words was stronger than ever, his eyes shone with optimism, his dark hair gleamed in the light from nearby window displays. He had eschewed his usual suit and trench coat for a nice button-down shirt and jeans, but still managed to appear just as elegant and at-ease as he did with a rapier in hand. He did look plenty convincing, which was kind of the problem.

When Mr. John Ferris, proprietor of Ferris’ Café and Eatery, had come to Lockwood and Co describing a phantom which haunted the lane adjoining his restaurant, preying on the young couples who liked to gather there, Lockwood had quickly risen to the challenge. He had immediately proposed a covert reconnaissance operation, to groans from Holly, George, and I. Lockwood’s disguises were the stuff of agency legend (though not, as he insisted, because of their effectiveness- indeed, they were notorious for being the exact opposite of effective), and he was forever attempting to justify some ridiculous new costume or accent as part of our cases.  
We at Lockwood and Co had long ago learned to tolerate our leader’s eccentricity, as long as it didn’t result in us getting chased by too many burly strangers with rural accents, but I had noticed that Lockwood’s hair-brained schemes had begun to include myself as co-conspirator with alarming regularity. There was the time when we pretended to be tourists as part of the Bone Glass Case and ended up getting tossed bum-first out of Julius Winkman’s store, for starters, not to mention the attempt at passing ourselves off as Relic Men for an illegal auction which had resulted in a harrowing chase through London’s abandoned metro tunnels.

But this couple disguise was an entirely new kind of insanity. When Lockwood had first suggested the idea, I had rejected it instantly, cheeks pink. But he was adamant that the best way for us to gather information on the Phantom was for us to pose as a couple and attempt to draw it out. Further arguments on my part had only resulted in further amused smiles (Lockwood), knowing glances (Holly), eye-rolls (George), expressions of disgust (the skull), and blushes (Me again) until I finally gave in. 

I fidgeted, wondering how Lockwood retained such an implacable sense of confidence out of his agent’s clothes. Me, I just didn’t know how to act without my utility belt or rapier. I was wearing a black tank top tucked into one of my nicer skirts, a simple blue and grey striped thing with pleats. I had convinced Holly to let me keep my combat boots even though they weren’t strictly casual wear, and felt slightly better with their familiar weight.

I was sure the skull would have plenty scathing comments if he could see us now, and, sadly, he would have probably had a point. I was a stiff, flustered mess without the slightest clue of how to act. Lockwood was no help, acting the part of starry-eyed lovebird with ridiculous gusto. 

My thoughts broke off as Lockwood slung his arm around my shoulder, an action that was probably intended to look like a gesture of romantic endearment but was so sudden and unexpected that I lurched suddenly to the side, nearly capsizing the both of us. 

“Would you stop doing that?” I snapped, “We’re not even at the Lane yet, we don’t have to pretend to be a couple.”

Lockwood let his arm fall quickly back to his side, looking a bit put off. “There are people all around Luce, we need to keep up the illusion.”

“Just _who_ exactly are we supposed to be fooling? We just need to trick the ghost, it doesn’t matter what any of these people think!”

Lockwood sighed, when he spoke, his irritation was audible in his voice “I think I know what I’m doing, Luce. After all, which of us is a master of disguise?” 

“Neither of us are!” I retorted hotly. “You are disguises are terrible.”

“Without my knack for disguises we never would have solved the case of The Smithfield Wraith.”

“Your ridiculous attempt to pass yourself off as a janitor nearly cost us that case! You would’ve been ghost-touched if George had chucked that salt bomb!”

“Would not!”

“Would too!”

We huffed in irritation, glaring at each other. Lockwood’s smile had vanished and I was clasping his hand rather tightly than need be. We didn’t usually bicker like this, but I wasn’t feeling myself tonight. Being out without my usual equipment me feel vulnerable and exposed, and this stupid charade wasn’t helping.  
Gradually, Lockwood’s expression softened, and a radiant grin began to appear.

“So then Luce,” he said, cocking his head to the side amusedly, “it looks like we’re having our first fight.” That was the way it always was with Lockwood, his anger never seemed to last long. Eventually, it would fade away to be replaced by his usual energy and optimism. 

“Well you started it.” I was unable to keep a note of petulance out of my voice as I replied. I didn’t let go of my annoyance half as easily as Lockwood did. 

“Oh wow. You two are just soooooo convincing, aren’t you?” jeered someone from nearby.

I’d know that sarcastic voice anywhere, and judging from the recognition in his eyes, so would Lockwood. We pivoted on the spot in unison, turning to face where the jibe had come from. Sure enough, George Cubbin’s bespectacled blue eyes were staring backing at us. George was slumped casually (well, not really casually, slumping was just sort of George’s natural state) on a bench, a battered comic book resting on his lap. Unlike Lockwood and I, he was dressed in agent gear, with rapier, salt bombs, magnesium flares, and lavender canisters affixed to his utility belt. A large duffel bag that I knew from experience contained iron chains, oil lanterns, and silver nets was plopped beside him on the bench.

George wore what I recognized as his “terribly amused” expression, his mouth was quirked into what passed as a smile for him, and his blue eyes gleamed with mirth. His gaze was fixed on Lockwood and I’s clasped hands, and I found myself flushing again. Really, I could’ve been a bloody stop sign, I was so red. I attempted to subtly wriggle my fingers free of Lockwood’s as fast as I could, but the move ended up being much trickier and more conspicuous than I had intended. 

“What are you doing here?” I snapped, angry at myself for being so easily flustered. I was sick and tired of being embarrassed.

George rolled his eyes “Did you really forget? I’m tailing you all, just in case things get dicey with the Phantom.”

“I know that, why are you _here_? You weren’t supposed to meet with until we got to Wilston Lane.”

George smirked “Oh, I know, but the performance you two were giving us just too good not to comment! You look like an old married couple-” He spoke over Lockwood’s attempted protestations “- an old married couple who have finally had it with each other and are getting a divorce. Really, it’s priceless.”

Lockwood glared at him. “That was just Lucy and I getting warmed up. I’ll have you know that we make an extremely convincing couple when we’re are our best.”

I took in his defiant tone with apprehension, _that_ never boded well.

George chuckled “Oh really?”

Lockwood nodded “Really.”

George just shrugged, unable to keep amusement out of his voice as he spoke, “Well have at it then, I’ll be watching.”

“Oh we certainly will.” Lockwood turned to me “Lucy?”

“Yeah?” I answered, against all of my better instincts.

“Let’s go.” Lockwood grabbed my hand, turned and began walking briskly down the street. The last thing I saw before we turned the corner was George, doubled over with laughter as he attempted to pick up his duffle bag. 

We were walking rather quickly than most of the couples around us now, but Lockwood scarcely seemed to notice. The thrill of a challenge had come over him, he radiated energy and enthusiasm, moving with focused intent. I, on the other hand, was somewhat less than enthusiastic. 

“We can do this Luce.” It was as if Lockwood had sensed my doubts. “I know we can. You’re a brilliant actress when you need to be. Remember the subway auction?”

I sighed. “If you mean the subway auction where you were nearly cut to ribbons by Relic Men and we got chased down a tunnel infested with restless ghosts by Adelaide Winkman and her cronies, then yes.”

Lockwood beamed. “That’s the one. If we made it out of that mess all right, then there’s nothing we can’t handle together.”

I couldn’t help but smile a little at that, praise from Lockwood always made me feel a warm glow of pride. Even when I was kind of furious with him.

We had reached Wilston Lane as we were talking, and Lockwood positively lit up upon catching sight of the street sign. I was slightly less enthusiastic, but I still had to admit that the Lane looked like a nice enough place. Bustling restaurants with sidewalk seating and well-lit shops lined both sides of the wide, busy street. The buildings were all older, stylish looking brick structures that had been recently renovated and painted. Trees and flowering bushes stood in planters on either side of the sidewalk, and little yellow lights of the kind you might find at a garden party had been strung up overhead. 

It was the kind of place that was busy even after sunset, its chief patrons young couples who were not as easily driven off by the Problem as older adults. I supposed that, if I _had_ had a boyfriend, we might have come here sometimes. Not that I would really know anything about that. 

Lockwood was heading in the direction of a nearby restaurant, pulling me gently with him. “Alright Luce,” he spoke with an infectious optimism, “let’s show George that he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. We’ll ask this fellow over here-” he gestured to a waiter standing by the building’s entrance “- what he knows about the Phantom.”

Before I could protest, we had reached the waiter.

“Good evening,” Lockwood greeted the man with his usual cheerfulness and charm, “I’m Ned Thompson. This is my girlfriend,” he slipped an arm around my waist “Lu…Suzy. We’re in love.” He spoke much louder and with much more enthusiasm than necessary.

Lockwood looked at me as if he wanted me to speak but I had been rendered speechlessly, for reasons that I was sure had nothing, nothing at all to do with the fact that his arm was currently wrapped around my waist. Really, we had been in similar proximity plenty of times before when practicing with our rapiers or fighting Visitors, so why did the weight of his hand on the small of my back make my heart feel like it was about to combust? 

The waiter just stared at us, his face blank with confusion. “Can I help you?” He asked, slowly and not without a note of suspicion. 

Lockwood’s smile wavered a little “Well, we had heard rumors that this street was haunted- isn’t that right, Suze?”

“Y-yes that’s right” I somehow managed to choke out, horribly aware of how visible my awkwardness was. 

“We were wondering if you’d ever seen any signs of supernatural activity?” Lockwood concluded.

The waiter’s eyes narrowed. “You two like ghosts do you?”

Lockwood nodded rapidly. “Yes we’re mad about them- read every issue of True Hauntings. Our fascination with the supernatural natural is one of the reasons we’re so deeply in love.” He gazed at me sappily. The best I could manage in return was a weak grin. 

The waiter sighed. “I can’t see anything myself, but I’ve heard talk that a Phantom sometimes wanders the Lane from some of younger staff.”

“Where did they see the apparition?” Everyone seemed surprised that I had mustered the courage to speak, myself included. But I wanted to get this case over with, and gathering as much information about the haunting as possible couldn’t hurt.

“They claim to have seen a figure emerging from the alley behind Ferris’. Said it was trailing around morosely after the couples out on the street.”

“Hmm…” Lockwood’s brow furrowed in confusion, “It can’t be a very powerful Visitor if the couples don’t seem to be affected by its presence. And yet Ferris said there had been an attack…”

The waiter’s eyed us suspiciously. “Yes, the phantom did go after a couple last week, but how do know about that? And why have you been talking to Ferris?”

“Oh we’re just curious, Suze and I. We’ve asked around about this fascinating ghost at all of the businesses along the Lane. Thank you so much for answering our questions.” Lockwood drew me closer to him, as if to underscore the fact that we were _definitely_ on a date and _certainly_ not agents. 

The waiter just shrugged. “You’re welcome, I suppose. Enjoy your date.” he gave us one last look of exasperated disbelief, then walked away, muttering “Such a morbid way to spend the night. Kids these days!”

As soon as he was fully out of sight, I turned to face Lockwood, extricating myself from his side-embrace with as much dignity as I could muster (which really was barely any). “Can we talk for a moment?” 

“Certainly! Let’s step over there” he gestured to the sidewalk in front of a nearby dark storefront. Lockwood continued to speak as we walked, his tone buoyant “That went pretty well Luce, don’t you think? Of course, we already knew most of what he told us, but it was nice to have Ferris’ story confirmed. Besides, I think he was quite convinced by our cover.”

I sighed. “That’s what I had wanted to talk to you about. Look, Lockwood… I know you pride yourself on your disguises, and I know that George insulted you when he made fun of them, but… well… I think you’re getting so sidetracked with trying to prove him wrong that you’ve sort of lost sight of the case.”

Lockwood’s grin had gradually slipped away as I spoke, now he looked unusually discomfited, almost embarrassed. He took his time responding, and when he did, he seemed to choose his word cautiously. “I owe you an apology Lucy, I should have been focusing on our job, and instead I let my ego get the best of me. I promise it won’t happen again.”

His expression was so sincere that I scarcely knew how to reply. “Oh it’s fine.” I answered hurriedly, “Really, I’m just glad we’ve come to an understanding.”

The smile was back. “Excellent!” Lockwood made some minute adjustment to his collar “Well, I think its high time we started our pursuit of the Phantom.” 

“We’ve got to be cautious, though. One sign of the ghost, and we call in George with his salt bombs. And do _not_ get carried away with the disguise again.”

Lockwood gave an affirmative nod. “Of course. We’ll be cautious as can be.”

“Good.” But I still couldn’t help feeling that this night was heading for disaster. Yes, I believed that Lockwood would _try_ to be cautious, the two of us had rather different definitions of “cautious”, and his tended to involve us almost dying a lot more.

We strolled the lane in silence for a while after that, hands lightly entwined, senses on high alert for any kind of supernatural activity. Lockwood Looked, I Listened, both of us using our talents in an attempt to pick up some trace of the Visitor, to no avail. And, yet, despite our lack of success thus far, I felt the best I had all evening. 

This was the way Lockwood and I were meant to spend our time together, walking side-by-side through the dark, unafraid of whatever horrors the night might hold as long as we had each other. In moments like this, all of our awkwardness and bickering seemed to fade away, and I couldn’t help but feel that all I was right in the world. Yes we didn’t have our rapiers or any of our usual tools, yes our clothes were all wrong, and yes I had embarrassed myself spectacularly on several occasions, but none of it seemed to matter anymore. The only thing that didn’t fit with Lockwood and I’s usual routine was our clasped hands, but I found that there was something inexplicably comforting and, well, natural about the feeling of our fingers twined together. 

“Do you really hate pretending to be a couple Luce?” The question was so unexpected that it took me a moment to realize Lockwood had spoken.

I honestly had no idea how to reply. “Er…” I began “you know Lockwood, I’ve never liked disguises. Pretending to be someone I’m not is hard enough for me to begin with, and then you’re pretending to be my boyfriend, and well you’re always so enthusiastic and just well… you.”

Lockwood winced. “Oh, I think I see. I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable.”

I shook my head, trying to explain “No, it’s me that’s the problem! I’m so awkward, and well, I’m just not very good at this. I’d much rather face down a vicious ghost than try to pass myself off at someone else.”

Lockwood was frowning. “You sell yourself too short Luce, you really are brilliant at this.”

I shrugged, attempting to the hide the warmth I felt coursing through me at his compliment. “Thank-you.”

“You _do_ blush more than is desirable for an undercover agent though,” Lockwood conceded, “why, you’re even doing it now.”

“Oh, gee thanks.” I said, through gritted teeth this time. 

Lockwood laughed, “It’s not an insult, I swear! Honestly… you’re rather cute when you’re flustered.” He grinned at me sideways.

I would like to say that I returned his smile, laughing cheerily, that I came up with some witty rejoinder on the spot. The sad truth is that I just stood there, eyes bulging, slack-jawed. I felt if I had been struck by lightning, there was no other way to describe the strange combination of numbness and electricity coursing through my limbs. 

Lockwood, realizing that I had stopped walking, took a step back, turning to face me. He had looked as if he was about to say something, but upon catching sight of my face, he stopped, stricken. We were standing rather close to each other, far closer than we usually stood, I realized in some distant, out-of-body way.

“Ummm…” I gulped. 

“Errrr…” Lockwood seemed equally incapable of forming coherent sentences. 

It was just then that I felt it, the seeping, overwhelming chill of miasma, followed by contorted snatches of deranged whispers and murmurs.  
“Lucy…” Lockwood’s eye’s were wide with apprehension, fixed somewhere behind me. 

I sighed. I was already turning, prepared to face the ghostly figure that was surely fast approaching from behind. “Oh hell.”


End file.
